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Monday, June 30, 2014

Sunday began with
two of my favorite lit panel topics: “The Best of Middle School and YA Books”
with GOH Emilie Bush, JM Lee, and Marina Segeyeva; and “Effective Writing
Collaboration” with teams Tanith Tyrr and Todd Stewart, and Clay and Susan
Griffith.

I would also have
liked to sit in on “YApocalypse”, with JM Lee and Chris Berman discussing the
popularity of post-apocalyptic dystopias in YA literature.

The day was both
long (we were all feeling pretty tired by this final day) and too short, as we
left closing ceremonies and began the mad round of goodbyes and taking down all
the framework of “Chicago 1933”, returning the North Raleigh Hilton to “normal”.

Port Raleigh
destabilized, and the ConTemporal departed for another year of adventure, scheduled
to return when Port Raleigh restabilizes next year —in 1632. :)

I want to give a
*huge* round of applause and thanks to the fantastic literary and crossover
guests who joined us this year:

Guests of Honor

Emilie P. Bush

Dave Lee

Aleta Pardalis

Literary and “Crossover” Guests

Suzanne Adair

Chris Berman

Danny Birt

Clay & Susan Griffith

JM Lee

Jean-Michel Margot

Misty Massey

Marina Sergeyeva

Winfield Strock

Tanith Tyrr & Todd Stewart

Mark Van Name

Suzanne Warr

Allen Wold

Darcy Wold

I also want to
give a “shout out” to Daughter, who worked hard as a “minion” all weekend, wherever
she was needed. We got Fitbit bracelets right before the con, and she outpaced
me every day. All through the weekend, staff stopped me in the hall to tell me
what a great help she had been. That’s my girl.

Saturday started
early for ConTemporal’s fledgling writers’ track, with new guest Suzanne Adair’s
workshop on “Plotting with the Hero’s Journey and Creating Archetypal
Characters”. Given that this was a new addition to the con, I wasn’t sure how
much of an audience we would have. I confess I was disappointed to only have
two people pre-registered, but ultimately seven people participated, which is
an excellent number for a first-time workshop offering, and a good size group
for interactive discussion.

The next morning
lit panel was “Nostalgia for the Future”, with Guest of Honor Emilie P. Bush
and new-to-the-con guest Winfield Strock, talking about why the science
fictions visions from the past continue to hold so much power over our
imagination.

A spate of
mid-morning panels included “Under Sung Heroines and Heroes”, with GOH Emilie Bush,
as well as Lady Attercop, Tanith Tyrr, Emmett Davenport, the Gin Rebellion, and
JM Lee—discussing women and minorities in leading roles in literature, comics,
movies, games, and more.

One of my
personal projects came to fruition as we brought in Jean-Michel Margot, one of
the world’s leading experts on the life and writings of Jules Verne. Margot
gave a wonderful presentation on Verne’s life and his role in the early rise of
science fiction and “fantastic tales”—to the extent that we are not even aware
of how completely Vernian references have infiltrated into our culture. Margot
has also been instrumental in bringing out a series of Vernian stories that had
never before been translated into English. As Margot says, if Verne had not
told his Extraordinary Tales, steampunk may never have come about!

One
disappointment is that we didn’t have a larger audience for Margot’s first
presentation. And although he had graciously agreed to give a second
presentation for the Apprentice track, we didn’t have *any* attendees for that.
Daughter and I enjoyed sitting and talking with him during that time, however.
We also learned that Margot leads a monthly geology walk at Occoneechee Mountain
in Hillsborough, which we will definitely plan to join soon.

This is one of
the perpetual frustrations of con running—you simply never know how many people
will “tune into” any given event. I’ve had concerts with three people in the
audience, and panels with more panelists than audience participants, and “meet
the guest” tables with no visitors. At best, the few enjoy the time together,
often with unexpected discussions. At worst, the guest(s) feel unappreciated,
and the con runners are left scratching their heads over how to do it better
next time. I do indeed have a few ideas about how to do it better next time,
and I’m already talking with people about some of those ideas.

The morning also
included a “Meet the Guests” session with Clay and Susan Griffith, longtime
supporters of ConTemporal. I always enjoy talking with the Griffiths, and we
truly appreciate their enthusiastic and gracious participation.

The Griffiths
joined another new-to-the-con guest, Suzanne Warr, as well as Braxton Ballew of
Valentine Wolf, to discuss the comic book heroes and mythos of the 30s and 40s—tying
into the overall theme of the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair.

We had a
lunchtime trio of “Meet the Guest” sessions with Danny Birt, Misty Massey, and
Mark Van Name. Early afternoon sessions followed with our two Suzannes—Suzanne Adair
and Suzanne Warr.

The afternoon
started off with Allen Wold’s “world of writing” workshop, featuring panelists
Darcy Wold, Misty Massey, and Danny Birt. I’ve participated in this workshop
perhaps half a dozen times in the past, and I find it invaluable for beginning
new stories and receiving immediate feedback from published authors and editors
on how to improve the beginning in a way to draw the reader along further into
the story. We also had about half a dozen participants in this workshop, and I
am sure they gained a lot from the experience.

Our fledgling
writers track included a discussion with Chris Berman on “Writing Effective Air
Combat Scenes” and with Suzanne Warr and Danny Birt on “Writing Humor”. As with
so many other panels, I would really have enjoyed listening to these! The
downside to *working* a con is that you don’t really get to attend very much of
it! Last year, I made a point of participating in Allen’s workshop, and I didn’t
make a similar commitment to attend any one thing this year. As a result, I
really didn’t attend *any* of the lit or writing track events. I think that’s
something I need to do for myself next year and in the future!

A great
writing/gaming crossover panel idea centers around “world building”. Allen Wold
moderated a panel featuring Todd Stewart, Tanith Tyrr, Mark Van Name, and Win
Strock as they discussed building worlds that make sense within their own
reality. This overall idea is one I hope to build upon as we grow our writers’
track.

Several of our
guests were willing storytellers for “Steamkids Storytime”—another under-attended
session that I hope will grow in the future. Our thanks to Emilie Bush, Danny
Birt, Scotty Sunshine, Sarah Black, and Stephen Chapman!

As the sun went
down, the seamier side of 1933 Chicago emerged, with speakeasies, gin joints,
burlesque shows, and the infamous “Creeper Capone” and his nefarious gang.
Daughter and I retreated for a quieter evening relaxing in our room.

Sunday, June 29, 2014

There are so many elements to
convention planning, and the weeks and days before build in intensity in so
many ways. This year I served as director of the literary and writers’ tracks,
finding and inviting guests to participate in writing workshops and discussion
panels. Daughter helped with discovering many
of the area’s local steampunk authors, and she is helping this weekend as my “Lit
Minion”.

Thursday has become “the new Friday”, as people arrive onsite at the convention
location. Daughter and I spent the day preparing for the long weekend and
finally made our way to the hotel. ConTemporal celebrates guests and
staff with a Thursday night dinner, and it was wonderful to see so many
familiar faces and still meet a few new friends. Daughter and I sat with the
lovely couple of Valentine Wolfe, as well as Scotty Sunshine and one of the
founders of the Traveling Revelers. And Members of Nerdvana, the Triangle’s
only geek burlesque show, delighted us with a brief after-dinner show, sort of
a “teaser” of their performances over the weekend. We finished the evening with
a late night swim in the hotel’s indoor pool, newly converted to saline, and
relaxing in the hot tub, with jets if no real heat.

Friday morning began with the hustle
and bustle of transforming the hotel into “Port Raleigh”. Unlike general or broad-based
cons, ConTemporal is an *experiential* steampunk convention, with a cast of
characters role-playing a storyline that’s been developing for the past three
years. It’s exciting to see the space transform from bare rooms into multi-room
stage, and then staff wearing t-shirts and jeans disappear and reappear in character, sporting top
hats, corsets, skirts, and lots and lots of beautiful fabrics and leather.
Throw enough gears and blinking lights around, et voila, steampunk!

Don’t mistake me, I have great
admiration for the cosplayers and makers who work incredibly hard and bring
tremendous creativity to their costumes and inventions!

Last year, I stepped in the last
few weeks before the convention to run registration. We were so fortunate to
have two fabulous volunteers who agreed to return and run registration this
year (and next). Daughter and I helped in the opening hours, before the first literary
panels of the weekend. She hekped out in reg throughout the weekend, but they really didn't need much from me at all, which freed me to attend to the lit and eriters panels and workshops.

We opened with an excellent panel,
“What is Dieselpunk”, since the theme of this year’s ConTemporal centers around
the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair (and a crossover with the inter-galactic Worlds’ Fair).
Misty Massey and Doctor Q rose to the challenge to discuss everything from Art
Deco and pulp heroes to swing music and noir that embody dieselpunk.

At the same time, a mix of
costuming and literary guests joined to create “Five Minute Backstories” for
cosplayers who wanted to add depth to their characters.

A more serious panel discussion on
“What can professional organizations off the writer” was led by Suzanne Warr,
Mark Van Name, and JM Lee.

And my longtime friend, author and
musician Danny Birt, was on hand in the “Meet the Guests” area of the Bizarre
Bazaar (aka “dealers room”). I want to give a “shout out” to Danny, because
later in the evening, there was a hustle-and-bustle to unexpectedly provide
entertainment in one of the large ballrooms. Someone asked me if I could get in
touch with Danny. “Hi Danny, I have a huge favor to ask you. Would you be
willing to play in impromptu concert. Um…now?” “I…could do that…I’ll get my
guitar and be there in a few minutes.” What a great guest, and a great guy!

Before the impromptu concert,
however, we had another round of panels, including “Are writers workshops for
you?”, with Chris Berman, Darcy Wold, and Clay & Susan Griffith.

JM Lee, Suzanne Warr were joined by
one of the Gin Rebellion to discuss “The steampunking of American culture”. And
Dave Lee, Braxton Ballew, and Win Strock talked about “Steampunk 101”. I
enjoyed Dave’s pithy description of steampunk. “In the late 1800s, the whole
world was changing, not just Victorian England, but Europe, India, China,
America. You can take any character from any part of the world from that time,
and ‘punk’ it—make it your own. Give it your own unique flavor, whatever that
is.” And I’m pretty sure it was Braxton who added, “Just throw in a few gears
and flashing lights…”—a la our dinner conversation from the night before. :)

I also enjoyed chatting late in the
evening with the lovely and talented Wendy Mehndi, as she drew a beautiful
henna design on my arm. I’ve received many compliments over the weekend, from
congoers and regular folk alike.

With Daughter in attendance, I
didn’t partake of the more “unsavory” entertainments designed to foster the
1930s Chicago flavor. I still managed to stay up way too late, talking with
lots of friends—often the best part of any convention.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Two years ago, I met and
befriended many of the authors involved with MagicalWords.net, a daily blog
site about the craft and business of writing. This week, I posted my first
entry on the site, and it feels like a major milestone. I wasn’t alone—it was
part of a group blog about a writers’ retreat we held after ConCarolinas at the
beginning of June. I didn’t expect the thrill of seeing my post under the
masthead, with the intro, “The Blogger”. Hey, that’s me!

Meanwhile, June sees another
milestone for me: the first time I have served as Literary Track Director for a
fan-run convention, this one centered around a steampunk theme. ConTemporal
opens in Raleigh, NC on Friday afternoon, and I’ve helped to bring in a great
group of authors and “crossover” guests (authors who are also costumers or
gamers or makers):

Guests of Honor

Emilie P. Bush

Dave Lee

Aleta Pardalis

Literary and “Crossover”
Guests

Suzanne Adair

Chris Berman

Danny Birt

Clay & Susan Griffith

JM Lee

Jean-Michel Margot

Misty Massey

Marina Sergeyeva

Winfield Strock

Tanith Tyrr & Todd Stewart

Mark Van Name

Suzanne Warr

Allen Wold

Darcy Wold

Check out the ConTemporal website ,
and if you’re in the area, come “step into the story” of this experiential
steampunk convention for a day or the whole weekend!

Here’s a fabulous, fun video that gives you a taste of last year’s ConTemporal:

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

I nodded and shook his hand,
pressing into it a few of Suphora’s and my hard-earned coins from my honest
work in the market.

I found Suphara surrounded by kind
women, who dried her tears and brushed out her hair, braiding it into the long
coils they once again wrapped around her delicate neck. I went to the baker and
bought the rest of his day-old bread to share with them, to thank them for
mothering her for a little while.

That night, we curled up together
by the fire, and I held both her hands together in mine. “Suphara, why did you
tell the medico you never breathed the poison smoke? You told me the first
night we met about how the infidels burned your village and your parents died
from breathing the smoke after they brought you here.”

She began to cry. “I didn’t want
those memories, so I used them for my magic.” She sniffled and pulled a hand
free to wipe her eyes and nose on her sleeve.

“I don’t understand,” I complained,
thinking about her magic. “How do you use memories for your magic?”

She sat up and rested her hands on
her knees. “There is always a price for magic,” she said. “Each time I use
magic, it costs a memory.

“Every time? What do you mean, it
costs a memory?”

“I don’t remember that memory
anymore. That’s why I separate my memories every day, into those I want to
keep, and those I want to use.”

I remembered her hands moving the
first time we met, and suddenly it all fell into place. But… “Then you should
not use so much! You'll use up all your memories!”

She dropped her head and said
softly, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have that many good memories to keep.
Better to use them for magic that helps make our lives better, don’t you
think?”

Exhausted by the day, we lay down.
She rested her head on my shoulder and fell asleep. I still held her hand and
listened to her breathing. Before I fell asleep, I whispered, “It’s okay. I’ll remember them for you,
then.”

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

And just like that, we were
inseparable. Suphara was eight, and her parents had brought her into the city
last spring, after the infidels burned their village. But they had both inhaled
too much of the poison smoke, and they died when the air turned cold a few
months later.

She’d been on her own for over a
year when we met. From that day, we took care of each other, often sleeping in
the basement where we first met, roaming all over the city. Suphara convinced
me not to steal, because she could always produce food on demand, or light a
fire. She never seemed reluctant to do so, and I never gave a second thought to
her magic. Soon the market owners began to trust I was no longer a thief, and
they paid me to run errands and help them. I forgot all about what she said
when we first met. If anything, I remembered the pomegranate.

But she told me about her parents
the first night we lay together by the fire I built and she lit, as we shared
stories for hours before we fell asleep, hands entwined. So I was puzzled when,
some months later, we waited in line to see one of the infrequent visiting
medicos who setup camp in the market square and freely offered their services
to any in need.

When it was our turn, Suphara
clutched my hand so tightly it hurt. I told the medico we were brother and
sister, and could I stay to comfort her? He nodded gravely as he unwrapped her
long braids from around her neck. They draped almost to the floor, and her skin
was pale and wrinkled from their weight. As he listened to her heart and to her
breathing, he frowned. “My child, have you been exposed to the poison smoke of
the infidels from across the sea? I fear I hear it in your lungs, and there is
an irregular pattern to your heartbeat.”

Suphara said, “No, sir. I have
not.”

I started and pulled my hand free
of hers in confusion. “What are you talking about? You told me they burned your
village!”

She paled and jumped up, running
from the room with her braids trailing behind her. I ran to the doorway and saw
one of the market women grab her into a tight embrace as Suphora sobbed on her
shoulder. Turning back to the medico, I asked, “Why would she not tell you the
truth?”

He shrugged. “Memory can be a funny
thing. Sometimes, when memories are too terrible, it’s better to forget them.
But this is dangerous for her. She must never take even one more breath of the
poison smoke, or it could kill her. She might not want to remember why, but she
must remember that. Will you help her?”

Sunday, June 22, 2014

I was ten when I
met Suphara. On the streets for three years already, I knew all the best hiding
places and escape routes around the market. I was running away from fat old
Bophat, who ran faster than you’d think he should, when I ducked under the
city’s terra cotta water pipes and dropped into the basement of one of the
Sepphir’sabandoned warehouses.

But the basement
wasn’t abandoned, and I rolled behind a support column, trying to breather
silently though my lungs were begging for more air. I’d only gotten a glimpse
of someone, and when I heard no noise, I finally leaned around the column for a
peek.

A girl sat
cross-legged on a woven mat. Her eyes were closed, her traditional braids were
wrapped around her neck, and her hands were out in front of her. She held then
both palm up, then turned her right hand over and pushed it to the side. Then
her left hand turned over and pushed down almost to the ground. Her right hand
flipped upright and lifted above her head, then slid to the left as far as she
could reach without turning. What was she doing? I crept closer.

“I’m sorting
memories,” she said quietly, and I was so surprised that I almost fell back on
my rear end. I didn’t speak out loud, did I?

“No, but you think
very loudly,” she said; and when she smiled, I fell in love. With a shake of my
head, I tried to push that thought down somewhere where she wouldn’t hear it.
While I was thinking about that, I finally heard what she had first said.

“Sorting
memories?” I asked. “Why?”

She kept her eyes
closed and her hands moving. I watched, fascinated.

“Because some I
want to keep, and some I will use,” she said. Opening her eyes, she drew her
hands together, fingertips cupped as if she held something. The air shimmered,
and I squinted to see what she was doing. She opened her hands, and a
pomegranate rested on her palm, large and red. My mouth watered at the sight.

“How did you do
that?” I asked in wonder.

She laughed.
“Magic, of course, silly.” She tore open the fruit and handed half of it to me.
I scooted closer and pulled it out of her hand.

“Can you teach
me,” I asked, sucking on a handful of the rich seeds. “That would be so
awesome!”

Laughing again,
she said, “I don’t think so. You either have magic or you don’t. If you don’t
know about it by now, I don’t think you have it,” she said thoughtfully,
spitting out a few pits.

She didn’t tell me
the price then, and I was so excited about the pomegranate and the idea of
magic, that I forgot what she said about sorting memories.

Saturday, June 21, 2014

Sarah walked in through the open
doorway and stopped cold, staring open-mouthed.

Danny sat on a rolling bar stool
he’d found in the first floor offices. As he worked, he braced his right wrist
over his left forearm, balancing the tattoo gun over his current design. It was
exhausting working like this, without resting the tip of the gun on skin. He
held a cloth in his left hand, and with practiced ease, he lifted the gun and
pulled his left arm backward over the design, wiping the ink away as his hands
hovered over empty air.

Glancing at the book lying flat
next to him, Danny nodded and returned to his work. “It’s looking good,” he
said to the empty room. “We should be able to finish this up in a couple more
sessions.”

“Danny!” Sarah exclaimed.

The book crashed to the floor.

Danny jerked his gun up away from
his design and swore. “Dammit, Sarah! What are you doing here?”

“Really? Really?! What am *I*
doing here? Danny, what are *you* doing? And why is that design floating in the
air…”

Sarah’s face lost color, and she
lifteda hand to her temple, taking a
stumbling step forward.

Danny stood up fast and set his
tattoo gun and cloth on the table. Reaching for her, he stood between her and
the design, drawing her to sit in his chair. Hands on her shoulders, he pushed the
chair back toward the far wall.

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Favorite Quotes

You have to start somewhere in order to end up somewhere good!~Margaret S. McGraw

~~~

Be kind, be brave, be fierce, be love.~Laura Anne Gilman

~~~

Some things in life cannot be fixed. They can only be carried.~Megan Devine

~~~

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. ~Mark Twain

~ ~ ~

Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars. ~Casey Kasem

When opportunity puckers up, lean in for a smooch. Only a fool tells the angels to come back tomorrow.~Steven Barnes

~ ~ ~

Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.~ Dalai Lama

~ ~ ~

We’re fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance.~ Japanese proverb

~ ~ ~

No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.~ Aesop

~ ~ ~

Everything flows, nothing stays.~ Heraclitus

~ ~ ~

Balance, always a balance. Work to give life purpose, play to lift the heart, music to soothe the spirit, love to give one strength. One cannot ask for more.~ Pelzmantel, K.A. Laity

~ ~ ~

Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.~ 1st part paraphrased from J.M. Barrie, author of Peter Pan; 2nd part from either Plato or (more likely) Philo of Alexandria

~ ~ ~

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish ulterior motives... be kind anyway

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies... succeed anyway

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you... be honest and frank anyway

What you may spend years building, someone may destroy overnight... build anyway

If you find serenity and happiness, people may be jealous... be happy anyway

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow... do good anyway

Give the best you have, and it may never be enough... give the best you have anyway ~ Mother Teresa